


In Another Life

by humancorn



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: AUs galore, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Death, Depression, Eventually a happy ending, Gay!Hakuba Saguru, Genderqueer!Kuroba Kaito, Grief/Mourning, Hakuba Saguru uses he/him pronouns in all universes, Hakuba's a bit OOC, Hakukai, I headcanon that kaito would be genderqueer if, Kaito is still a thief, Kuroba Kaito is genderfluid through the series, Kuroba Kaito uses different pronouns depending on the universe/life he's in, M/M, More tags to be added, POV Third Person Limited, Pansexual!Kuroba Kaito, Reincarnation, Reincarnation AU, a long time in the making, from Hakuba's POV, he were introduced to the concept of gender identities, major character death but not really, saguru's got some trust issues when it comes to good things happening to him, star crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9793613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humancorn/pseuds/humancorn
Summary: No matter how many lives they meet in, Kaito is still a thief. And no matter how many times their love ended in tragedy, Kaito still loved him. || Kind-of based on "In Another Life" by Vienna Teng.





	1. 1860's Japan

**Author's Note:**

> As a precautionary note, I will state that I am a genderqueer queer person and not in fact a cishet person so please do not yell at me for faulty representation, as Saguru and Kaito's representative identities are based off either personal experiences or experiences of friends of mine.

The first life he could remember was more than two hundred years ago. The 1860’s, not the best time to be alive unless you belonged to a conquering empire, and even then life wasn’t the best. Sickness, death, and unlawful human rights ran rampant then. And Hakuba Saguru was caught in between two worlds. The bastard child of an English nobleman, living with his Japanese mother in a well-to-do house just outside of Kyoto (all expenses paid for by his estranged father, of course). His mother drank herself to sedation every night and he, well, he kept company with the servants. Nothing would keep him from a night in the kitchen with all of them, hushed giggles and good food; nothing would keep him from the only people who treated him like he was a person: not a bastard, not a jewel, just another human.

He was happy then, he supposed; he’d had a good education and more than enough food. It was a comfortable life. And then he came along: tattered bangs wet against tanned skin, slim, no more than 100 pounds soaking wet (and that he was—soaked to the bone), standing in the rain on his bedroom balcony looking terribly frightened. Saguru could hear shouting in the distance, and the boy jumped a bit, startled. The boy met his eyes and Hakuba could see the fear, clouded and angry, but there all the same. His body seemed to move on its own, unlatching the bay doors and grabbing the other boy’s wrist, pulling him inside and wrapping him in the comforter laying at the bottom of his bed. Hakuba guided him gently to his closet, putting a finger to his lips and winking before shutting the boy in the closet. And then he stopped, his heart pounding, hands shaking, and composed himself. He walked out his balcony door just before the sheriff stumbled through the line of trees that separated his house from the neighbor’s. The sheriff looked around, quick and dazed, and his eyes landed on Hakuba,

“Did you see a boy running through here?” His voice was commanding but rushed. Obviously the boy had been much quicker, perhaps cleverer even.

“He went west,” Hakuba pointed toward the back of his yard, toward town. And the sheriff believed him; he ran off without another thought or a thank you. Sighing, he stepped back into his room, shutting and latching the windows before making his way back over to the closet. He opened the door, surprised to find only a comforter instead of a human. Suddenly, something cool was against his neck and a whisper, airy and shaking, in his ear, “Why did you help me?”

“You were being chased.” Simple, to the point.

“By the police.”

“Yes,” and he laughed, it would be fitting for him to die like this, “and?”

The boy scoffed and let the knife slack, hands dropping to his sides, “I could’ve been a murderer and you just…” The boy trailed off.

“You looked too scared to be a murderer.” Hakuba laughed under his breath. _You looked like you were the one that was going to be murdered._ “How did you get on my balcony anyway? It’s two stories off the ground.”

The boy shrugged, but you could see his shoulders were still tense, on edge, “It’s a secret.” They looked at each other for a good long while. Minutes that seemed to turn into hours before either of them spoke again.

“I should go.”

-=-=-=-=

One week later, Hakuba was still captivated by the night he met that strange boy. He had concluded that the boy was about the same age as him, lower-class (if his appearance was anything to go by—he looked starved and sleepless, though that could be for another reason…but he didn’t want to delve into those), and exceedingly clever and quick on his feet. His mind often drifted back to the picture of him standing soaked on the balcony, ribs jutting out through the wet, see-through cloth, and Hakuba could almost feel those calloused fingers gripping his neck as the blade pressed gently into the skin of his neck.

Eight days, twenty hours, and four minutes. That was how long it took the boy to return to his balcony. Fresh clothes this time, bangs splayed on his forehead but from _sweat,_ not _rain._ Eyes darting, hands working themselves together in a well-worn pattern; nervous ticks. Hakuba unlatched the door and the boy drifted in. Careful, predetermined steps on barely-creaking-floors, hands still wringing themselves together. And then he turned, spinning on his heel to face Hakuba, a grin that nearly split his face in two sliding in to place.

“Hello again, Angel.” Heavily accented English came from the boy’s mouth, followed by rough Japanese, “You really saved my ass a week ago so I thought I needed to repay you.”  His hands stopped as he bowed and took Hakuba’s hand in his own. The boy leaned down, his lips grazing the skin on the back of Hakuba’s hand and he could feel the blood run to his cheeks. Another hand came out from behind the boy’s back, yielding a small assortment of wildflowers. _When had he?_ He tucked them in to the blonde’s breast-pocket as he stood and turned to leave before Hakuba could even finish the thought.

Hakuba Saguru had never thought himself to be the type to fancy men. He had always imagined himself married to a respectable woman, having two or more children and living a quiet, peaceful life. _That’s never how things were meant to turn out_ , he told himself. His feelings were only confirmed by the weekly visits from his mysterious stranger who was all about whispers and flowers and calling him ‘Angel’ and leaving little notes in broken English all around his room.

Hakuba still didn’t even know his name. He’d learned so many things about him, he’d even invited him to stay at his villa (an offer which he had politely declined), and he refused to tell him. “ _You don’t need to know,”_ he’d said, _“It’ll never be important.”_ Even after the sixth week, when he’d come in bloody and bruised, smiling like an idiot, and Hakuba had tended to his wounds, cleaned them out, bandaged them, and asked him _how._ And he wouldn’t answer; he just grinned again with one of his eyes nearly swollen shut and he’d kissed him. It tasted of salt and metal, but it was wonderful and it ended too quickly for his liking.

The weeks after that seemed to stretch on and on, as Mystery Man began to visit more often, stealing kisses and holding him close. His mother had gotten quite a few suitor requests for him, all respectable women of various titles of nobility. He had declined each one, of course. It was not a matter of timing, as his mother assumed. She had covered it up, _“He’s just so young; he doesn’t want to settle down yet.”_ It was instead a matter of interest. He had no intention of taking up a suitor when he already had one.

Sticky nights in the middle of summer, their breath hot, their hands fleeting; nights spent warm, wrapped up in blankets and each other in winter, and they were happy. Hakuba knew it was illogical, ill-thought-out, and even dangerous, but those were small compared to the warmth in his stomach, in his chest, whenever he was near; it was nothing to the way they fit together, snug, perfect, their hands, their hearts, and their hips. He had long since convinced the stranger to stay, long since stopped caring about the morning.

And then it came—a morning like any other, his mother knocking at his door. Stranger still slept, not even flinching at the sound. His mother called to him. He kissed the smaller boy’s cheek and gently ran a hand through his hair, a soft smile creeping onto his face. The other boy rustled, a smile of his own, “Mornin’, Angel.”

A louder knock, a disgruntled sigh, “Saguru. I’ve accepted an offer.” Blood ran cold; he answered, “An offer?”

That was how he ended up in his bedroom dressed in his sturdiest travelling clothes at midnight, waiting for his stranger. They’d planned it all out: where they’d be going, how they’d get there, who they’d become. Just waiting, glancing at his watch, and waiting. Two minutes and fifty-seven seconds past the time he said he’d be there. Saguru paced around his room, small suitcase in hand, glancing out the glass doors that led to his balcony every few seconds. He’d taken money from his mother’s safe, enough to get them out of town, enough to get them somewhere hopeful.

The wind was howling outside, sending the shutters crashing repeatedly into the sides of the house. It sent the trees into a frenzy. Leaves were sent flying, branches snapped in half and flown in every which way. _This may not have been the best night._ Saguru shook the thought off, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger. The click of the door opening and a gust of wind hit him and he heard the door shut.  A wet cough.

“You look so stressed, Angel.” Another cough accompanied by the sound of liquid splattering on his hardwood floor. Hakuba turned and opened his eyes to be met with the sight of blood. Blood: staining the front of the other boy’s shirt, bubbling from his lips, pooling on the floor. It was in that moment that Hakuba forgot how to breathe; he just stood there.

“L-love,” He choked on his words, a sob trying to make its way up his throat. Stranger’s eyes softened and he smiled; he smiled soft and closed his eyes, taking a staggering step toward his lover.

“Don’t look so upset,” Nearly doubled over, spilling more blood onto the floor, “It’s our big night, isn’t it?” His fingers touched Hakuba’s face, thumb grazing over his cheek. Their foreheads came together, breaths mingled, and all Hakuba smell was the sick scent of metal on his breath. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes, as well as see the ones forming in his lover’s.

“We’ve got to get you to a—” The thumb came to rest on Hakuba’s lips for a moment, and he shut his eyes for a few, “What hap-happened?” The sob came out, splitting his words as his throat tightened. A pained laugh, a groan came from Stranger.

“You know, I never did tell you my name, did I?” He closed his eyes and all Hakuba wanted was for him to open them again, to meet those dark irises with his own and pray.  Pray for his stranger, pray for himself, pray for their life together. Hakuba was holding him up by now, one hand wrapped around the back of his neck, one pulling his chest to his own, in an attempt to keep him standing, to pretend he was fine, to pretend that his love wasn’t bleeding all over his floor, to pretend that he didn’t know that this amount of blood loss would likely be fatal.

“No, you didn’t.” Tears were flowing freely now and his throat ached more with every word.

“Kaito.” A small intake of breath as his grip on Hakuba’s neck grew looser, “Kuroba Kaito.”

Hakuba let out a breathy laugh, more sad than anything, “That’s a beautiful name.”

“Shut up.” The hand on the back of his neck went limp, the body he was holding slacked, and Hakuba pulled him closer, silently sobbing into Kaito’s neck. He was still warm. He couldn’t be—he couldn’t. He was just here yesterday, bright and full of life.

In the end, Kaito had died with a smile on his lips, in the arms of someone who loved him. Hakuba learned more about him in the weeks following his death, both from the police and from Kaito’s ‘siblings’. He’d been a common thief, stealing from the rich and supporting his little ‘family’ that lived in a ramshack-shed on the edge of an abandoned farm. The police had been pursuing him for quite some time, they were exuberant that Hakuba had “caught him,” even more so that he was dead. His family, a group of boys and girls ranging in age from two to eighteen, took the news with an expected amount of grief. The oldest, a girl of eighteen named Aoko, had told him the most. She was composed, comforting the others, but he could see the blankness in her eyes; it mirrored his.

Aoko and Kaito had met when they were young, both abandoned at an orphanage that closed down a few years later. They had collected kids along the way, creating the little family in the process. Kids had come and kids had gone. Malnourishment, sickness, injury; they were used to it. She had turned to him halfway through and told him, “He talked about you a lot; how you saved him, how kind you were to him. I thought you were just stupid or looking for a quick fuck so when he told me he planned to run away with you, I slapped him. I thought he meant to abandon us. For you. Someone with means, someone he had just met.” She looked off into the field, hands growing restless in her lap, “The last conversation I had with him was an argument. I accused him of abandonment and he’d run away smiling. Later, I found the map under my pillow and tickets for the cross-country train.”

   Hakuba felt a knot growing in his chest as he looked down at his lap, mouth growing dry.

“Hey,” She poked at the top of his head, “Look at me.”

He listened, peering up through his eyelashes. And she cocked a tiny, crooked smile at him. They were very similar in some aspects, he thought; _of course they_ _were they grew up together._

“I’m glad I got to meet you, though. _Things that make him weak come only once in a blue moon._ ”

That was the first time he’d met Kuroba Kaito, the first time he’d fallen in love, and the first time he’d watched him die. But it wouldn’t be the last.


	2. High School Lives & Pale Blue Skirts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first life was vivid, detailed, and long. He could remember nearly every moment, every feeling. The middle ones were less so, they were muddled and often confusing. They sometimes blurred together, bringing him new, equally confusing lives. || Alternatively: High School is harder when you're in love with your past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Kaito is Genderqueer in the High School life, so they use they/them pronouns.

The first life was vivid, detailed, and long. He could remember nearly every moment, every feeling. The middle ones were less so, they were muddled and often confusing. They sometimes blurred together, bringing him new, equally confusing lives. The second one occurred in the 1900’s, once again in Japan. He’d been the son of a baker whose mother died giving birth to him. He had the smallest inkling from this memory that his father had hated him for it. Kaito had been there too; he visited the shop twice a week, buying a single loaf of bread each time. And Hakuba had fallen for him all the same. He was a thief then too, a master pickpocket. Their love affair had been brief that time, ending with Kaito being killed in a carriage accident while crossing the street to get to the bakery.

The next was shocking. He could remember bits of it. Things like what his house looked like and what he did for a living (he was a welder this time; hardworking, honest). And he could remember the knight that had wandered into his shop one day, all smiles and confidence. He could remember what he said when the knight had asked if Hakuba could create a hollow sword handle, one with a needle embedded in the hilt:  _ “That seems like cheating.”  _ And the smirk that followed,  _ “Kinda like _ stealing  _ victory, eh?” _ Years of friendship delving into something else, ending with a bloodstained newspaper dropped on his doorstep, headline:  _ Famed Knight Beheaded for Sodomy. _ The last memory from that life was a feeling of hopelessness, though at the time he didn’t understand why.

His fourth life was long. Late 2010’s America, a child of Japanese descent whose parents had landed jobs in northern Ohio. He never seemed to be at home, though he’d been here since birth. At a young age he had researched reincarnation, his fourteen year old self finding the idea fascinating. The internet had everything to tell him about it; it was filled to the brim with philosophies, research, and theories. Apparently that had sparked something in him, as his memories from his previous three lives came flooding back with flourishing detail. The happiness, the pain, the recurring people, and the people who never came back. His parents were always different; his friends were always different; he was never in the same place. But there were two constants in his lives, he learned. One:  _ that he’d fall in love with Kuroba Kaito _ , and Two:  _ that, inevitably, Kaito would die because of him _ . Had they not planned to run away together, Kaito may have lived. Had he never worked at the bakery, Kaito may have lived. Had he never kissed him one late night after a siege, Kaito may have lived. 

So he made a pact with himself that time. He’d written it down; he’d signed it; he’d locked it away in the top of his bedroom closet: he would not get involved with Kuroba Kaito, should he meet him ever again. There had been enough heartbreak and he had done enough to hurt him. But he hadn’t met him yet this time. 

Years passed and the promise, the vow, still weighed heavy in his mind. Dreams of his past lives haunted him, from both ends of the spectrum. Happy memories he wished would happen again (quiet days in bed, hands held loosely over the dinner table). Sad memories he wanted to forget (death; Kaito dying in his arms, the blood pooling around his body in the dirt road). His head ached from loss of sleep for months at a time; he either never wanted to wake up or never go back to sleep. School was monstrous; the expectations from his parents daunting and looming. His grades were impeccable (all-nighters were easy when you dreaded sleep). Nothing seemed to interest him; he was lost and he didn’t want to be found.

And a Kuroba transferred to his school late into his junior year; he didn’t quite catch the first name as he focused in on the new student’s face, his heart skipping a beat when the syllables that fell from their mouth formed the dreaded ‘ _ Ku-ro-ba’ _ . Unisex clothes, no ‘reliable’ gender markings, and Hakuba could clearly see the resemblance this person had to the Kaitos of his past lives. They came in to class every day wearing everything from dresses to flannels, heels to work boots, and Hakuba was easily smitten with them physically. He was hesitant. He ignored them; he didn’t see why a stranger warranted such curiosity from the other kids. And Kuroba, well, they had no reason to talk to him. 

But, oh, his classmates were curious, and curiosity mixed with puberty was never a good combination. They bickered and argued in hushed whispers for weeks. Hakuba caught a few of the conversations accidentally, not realizing he was eavesdropping until it was too late. Mixed murmurs of “of course Kuroba is a girl,” or “bro, I bet you 20 bucks he’s a boy” and Hakuba couldn’t care less. The culmination of this curiosity ended in a group of boys cornering Kuroba on his way out of the school: half-circle built around them and Kuroba’s back to the wall in an adjacent hallway. Hakuba had nearly passed them by without stopping, his vow of neutrality heavy on his mind. But he could hear them talking and it sent a chill down his spine. Teenagers were vile things, really. And could he actually pass by someone in need? 

He took a step toward them and Kuroba’s face came into view. His breath hitched when he saw it; the smirk that Kuroba was wearing was one he’d seen before. They locked eyes and it fell for a moment, only to flicker back across his face when they refocused on the group of boys. A snap of his fingers and a puff of smoke, doves bursting from the cloud and scaring off the circle of boys. He’d learned later that week that all of their wallets were missing, vanished seemingly out of thin air. People seemed to lose interest in Kuroba, the luster of being the new kid in school fading. And Hakuba felt a strange sense of relief.

     Two weeks, five hours, and twelve minutes went by before he thought about them again. His pens had started to go missing from his desk; his pencils next, followed by his dream notebook. He’d also noticed Kuroba hanging around in the halls after school let out, strolling through with that ever-present smile carefully placed on their face. And Hakuba didn’t pay any mind to it, really, until the dream journal showed up again. Exactly a week after he had noticed it missing, he had found it, propped up on the top shelf of his locker. He picked it up, turned it over in his hands, flipped through the pages, and that was when he noticed it—little notes in the margins of the pages, little thoughts of ‘ _ I know, that was awful,’ _ and  _ ‘you see, this was what was going on with me.’  _ And his heart nearly stopped, he was sure of it, and then started right back up again, jumping to his throat, when a hand gently touched his shoulder. 

“I remember you too, ya know,” Hakuba turned at the voice, calm, calm as it always was, calm as it always had been, “I wasn’t sure at first…” Kuroba broke off, their head falling the slightest bit, “I wasn’t sure if you were  _ you,  _ and I was almost certain you didn’t remember  _ me.  _ But…the way you looked at me that day when I was cornered. Blind adoration, it’s how you always look at me, y’know, how you always  _ have _ . So I took a chance and stole that little journal you’re always scribbling away in.”

“Kuroba,” Almost a whisper, Hakuba could feel his chest growing tighter.  _ All the guilt, guilt, guilt.  _ Kuroba took his hand, kneeled to the ground and kissed it. 

And with that tell-tale crooked smile, _ “Yes, Angel?”  _

Hakuba pulled them up and wrapped his arms around them; he clutched at the other person, trying to get his brain to recognize that this was real, Kaito was  _ here, they were safe, dear lord, they were safe, and they remembered him too and they wanted to know him again.  _

Kaito went home with Hakuba that day, under the guise of studying. In reality, they wanted to exchange stories. It felt odd to Hakuba. He felt like he’d known this person for his entire life and yet he knew nothing about them. It wasn’t until they’d swapped stories of their most recent lives together that he recognized how well he knew Kuroba Kaito. 

“I wondered how they got proof on you then, but I suppose back in those days the courts didn’t need things like proof or even reliable accusations.” Hakuba was lounging on his bed, back against the headboard, looking intently at Kaito. Said Kaito was sitting in Hakuba’s desk chair, spinning around like an idiot and playing with a pack of cards they’d pulled out of literally nowhere. 

“Well, it was kinda like that. The men I’d been travelling with had been caught, ya know—in the act—and they were tortured into confessing. In the process, they’d asked about me, their only travelling companion, and they’d told the men torturing them that I was also involved with another man. SO,” A dramatic twirl in the chair, their head resting languidly on their right hand, propped up on the chair’s armrest, “they arrested me. Tortured me. Told me I’d tell them, or they had other ways to find out who I had been involved with. But I didn’t break as easily as they thought I would. They ended up killing me, though I wasn’t beheaded. I can’t imagine what the poor S.O.B they used to impersonate me in front of the masses went through. It seems they never found you, though, from what you remember.” 

“I’m so—”

“No.” They paused, “you don’t get to say that. It’s not your fault. None of this was ever your fault, idiot.” Kaito had crossed the room and was now sitting beside him on the bed; they flicked Hakuba’s forehead. Saguru glared, huffing and turning toward them.

“I never said it was,” He started, stopping before he could finish with  _ ‘but it felt like it was, every time.’ _

Kaito sighed and leaned against him; they took Saguru’s hand and intertwined their fingers. The warmth of them on Hakuba’s side, the same callousing of fingers sliding against his own, it brought back so much. For the first time since he was fourteen, he felt at ease. 

Remembering was a lot easier in pairs, he found. Piecing the holes of his second life together through Kaito’s dramatically-over-done retellings, he found that the inkling he’d had about his father was true—he had despised Saguru for killing his mother, and through Kaito he had learned his father was an intensely physical man, to put it nicely, and that Kaito had been planning on taking him away somewhere in that life as well.

“I was actually on my way to tell you that I’d saved up enough money to get a horse to take us two towns over when I got hit by that carriage. I swear they were aiming for me too. Carriages are slow, dammit, how could you just ‘not see’ a person?” And they’d laughed about it with that old laugh; the laugh that had wheedled its way into Hakuba’s heart, bringing that warm-at-home feeling to his chest, even when they was joking about their own death. It had been too long since he’d heard it last, long enough to forget just how it made him feel. 

But, they never mentioned that first time, that first life. Apart from calling Saguru ‘Angel’, the only remnants he got were the occasional slip that Kaito made into rough Japanese, things Saguru knew he’d heard before but couldn’t quite place. Memories, it seemed, were complicated things. 


	3. Of Tulips, Roses, and Cornflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High School Life AU still; short & sweet fluff because I'm busy preparing to defend my senior thesis <3 [and what high school au is complete without needless fluff, right??]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Flower language is used in this fic and it would probably be useful if I explained what they mean here, because I don't expect everyone to be as much of a flower nerd as I am.  
> Red Tulip: Pure, True Love  
> Purple Tulip: Thinking of someone as royalty  
> Coral Rose: "I want to have sex with you"  
> Cornflower: "You're not getting in my pants"

They were two seventeen year olds in love, Hakuba’s parents swearing up and down that they were bad for each other, other kids either congratulating or bullying them, and teachers trying desperately to get them to keep their hands off of each other. It was easy, sliding into this rhythm, this life, knowing that they had already loved and lost, knowing they had already experienced heartbreak in its truest form. And this life was safer, more progressive; they wouldn’t be beheaded, they couldn’t just be  _ stabbed,  _ right? There was advanced medicine for stuff like that. It was nice; they lived in a peaceful town, had peaceful lives, and they were happy.

Summer was upon them before they knew it and school gave way to day trips to Lake Erie, campouts in Kaito’s backyard with s’mores and stargazing, and road trips on the way to college visits. They were all about the future: what university they’d go to, what their apartment would look like, what they wanted to  _ do  _ with their lives. Because this time, this life was about promise and new beginnings and being together and not caring about consequences because, really, what could life throw at them that they hadn’t already been through? 

When the first semester of their senior year had started, they were still inseparable. They’d scheduled two weekly date nights, impromptu-hung-out at some point every weekend, and had pissed off Saguru’s parents more times than they could count. Namely, when they both applied to the same colleges, and both happened to be accepted into a few of the same colleges, and then proceeded to base their decision of where to go to college on where both of them happened to be accepted into, rather than how prestigious the school happened to be. It had been a hard night when Saguru had told them where he had chosen to go to school -- his mother had cried, told him he was wasting his life, and his father, well, he just sat there, shaking his head. But Saguru was over the moon, the contract he’d signed in blood years ago, long forgotten and collecting layers upon layers of dust in the top of his closet. 

\---

On the fifteenth of March, it was announced that there would be a talent show in May. Kaito immediately signed up with a wink to Saguru, meaning there was bound to be trouble. As Saguru had learned in their time together, both in this life and previous ones, if there was one thing Kaito loved it was magic. And if there was one thing that  _ this  _ Kaito loved more than magic, it was apparently making Saguru try on very skimpy magician’s assistant costumes. Their favorite seemed to be a small blue number with boyshorts that had feathered tufts around the hips and a half-turtleneck that cut off right at the dull curve of his ribs.  _ Sequins _ , Saguru sighed,  _ sequins everywhere. _ But he supposed the little chaste kisses in between costumes were reward enough to go along with literally almost anything, including suffering through trying on ridiculous costumes. Saguru dragged a hand down his face and chuckled,  _ the damn fool was operantly conditioning him with kisses.  _

“Babe, did you try on this red one?” Kaito called from the other side of the changing room door, promptly slopping another costume over into the stall.

“Are those...devil horns?”

“Fuck yeah they are.”

They’d decided on the blue half-turtleneck and boyshorts of course, but  _ somehow  _ the devil-horns had made their way into the checkout cart and Kaito swore up and down that they hadn’t planned it, though the horns made their way into the show-wardrobe anyway. 

A sleek suit, red tie, devil-horns. He’d never seen Kaito blush that deep; bright red from their nose to the tips of their ears. 

“‘Guru, I think you’re trying to  _ kill me _ .” Kaito said, arms folded across their chest as they took a step forward. Saguru rolled his eyes and smiled, wicked.

“Been trying for centuries,  _ sweetie _ .” He mirrored his partner, not willing to be the first to give in. Kaito smirked, taking one step forward, then stilling. Saguru could see the glint in Kaito’s eye as they turned away, a breathy chuckle following suit.

“Hakuba Saguru,” Saguru could only see the back of their head as they tilted it to the side, “do you love me?” 

“Of course, love.” 

“Then,” Kaito turned back around, kneeling right before Saguru in the process, “Would you do me the honor of being my magician’s assistant at the talent show in May?” A puff of smoke, and two tulips, one red, one purple were in their hand as it cleared. Saguru chuckled as he took the flowers and Kaito’s hand, bending to press a kiss to the back of it.

“It would be an honor,  _ ma  _ _ chérie _ _.  _ Though I do wish you’d told me we were exchanging flowers,” Saguru stood and gently tugged Kaito up, his hands on their hips as soon as they were standing, “I would have prepared a nice bouquet of coral roses for you.”

Kaito smiled as they leaned in, lips almost touching Saguru’s as they spoke, “You’d have cornflowers stuffed in your locker for days if you did that, _mon petit chou_.” Saguru smirked, closing the rest of the distance with a searing kiss.    


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A magic show and a bunch of cheese! Love y'all <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Both of them are cheese-balls. HUUUUGE CHEESE BALLS.

“So, you want to do…what, again?” Saguru rubbed his temples, once again. Finals had kicked his ass this week and he was ready to lay in bed for the rest of his life. Hopefully, with Kaito by his side, head laid lightly on his chest, chattering away and—Wait. Focus.

“—So, because I know Shinichi and Heiji are going to be doing something like _that_ , I think we need to step up our game and go for the Mansfield Trick. I think it will be the only way to outdo them. And we _have_ to win, you know.” Kaito repeated, their hands reaching to grasp Saguru’s and intertwine their fingers over the table.

“Babe, just, no. No.” His eyes hurt, ached even, “Can’t this wait until tomorrow? I don’t think I can stay awake for much longer, let alone plan an entirely new show.”

“But ‘Guru,” Kaito whined, their grip on his hands tightening the slightest bit and Saguru jolted awake. He ghosted his thumb over Saguru’s and smiled at him. They stood and came to sit in Saguru’s lap, one hand cradling Saguru’s head, the other placed lightly on his shoulder, as they peppered Saguru’s face with little kisses.

“Please, baby. After the show we can spend all weekend napping together, promise.” Kaito pouted, moving in to peck Saguru’s lips. He looked at his partner, eyes tired but still twinkling in excitement. In the end, Saguru had given in, and they’d stayed up all night, snuggled together on Kaito’s parent’s couch, planning out every little detail of their show. Theatrics, stage placement, etc. They’d triple checked the locks, made sure the jacket Kaito would have on was easy to get out of, and tried out the trap door on stage the next day at least six times to make sure everything would run smoothly and there would be no complications.

As the show was approaching, Kaito was calm, collected,  but Saguru had this numbing dread that had been knawing at his stomach for the last few hours. Their makeshift dressing room was located in one of the math classrooms, and the walls were littered with different posters explaining exponential equations, factoring, and matrices. Saguru ran through different problems in his head, trying to distract himself from the aforementioned dread. Kaito, on the other hand, seemed to be bouncing off the walls. Saguru this and Saguru that, and Saguru could have sworn he’d done all of these things prior to arriving here today. It was only when he saw the slight tremble in his partner’s hand that he realized Kaito was attempting to keep them both busy to distract themselves.

As Kaito listed off the 20th task, Saguru caught their wrist and pulled them into his arms. Kaito sighed and immediately wrapped their arms around Saguru, burying their face into his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I love you, so, so, much. You’re going to do great, Kaito.” Saguru ran his fingers through Kaito’s hair, rubbing their scalp intermittently in an attempt to calm them down.

“I love you too, Saguru.”

Curtain call came a few minutes later and Kaito and Saguru made their way to the stage. Kaito in an entirely white suit with a sleek, slim red tie and Saguru in a slim-fitted black suit, black undershirt, blue tie, and, of course, the devil horns. Black and White, Dark and Light. Just how Saguru saw them, in the end. Himself, the dark, the horrible, the evil force that when combined with a purity such as Kaito’s it was…life destroying. _It was fitting_ , he thought, _that he would be the one that would be locking Kaito away in that death sentence of a coffin of water._

Their names were announced and they walked out onto the stage, Kaito eating up all of the applause like it was their life-force. Their tricks were simple, at first. A few rabbits out of a hat, a couple of disappearing milk tricks, as well as a little bit more complicated trick involving a watermelon and a kazoo. When it came time to actually preform the big trick they had planned, he could see the sweat beading on Kaito’s forehead, their chest puffing heavily as they sucked in deep breath after deep breath. As Hakuba secured the straps on the straight jacket, he whispered, lips unmoving from his pasted-on smile.

“Are you sure?” Kaito nodded out affirmative and squeezed Hakuba’s hand as he secured their hands behind their back. As his partner explained the trick to their audience, Saguru worked at getting them hoisted above the glass case. Kaito finished explaining, gave their patented smile and Saguru lowered them slowly into the case. The water rippled around them, and the fear behind his partner’s eyes was a little less than evident, but still there. Hakuba’s heart clenched as Kaito took a large breath, and went under. He sealed the cube. There was a dull rattling from inside the cage and Saguru smiled, half-bowing to the audience as the rattling continued, his heart rate stepping up and up until the rattling stopped, after what seemed like a near millennia. His heart dropped and he had to will himself from grabbing at the seal to the cage, ripping it open and checking to see if Kaito was still there, slowly drowning, slowly _dying, right here, right next to him, where he could help, where he could stop it, where he could finally stop or at least stall this run-out death-cycle of a series of lives—_

“Ladies and Gentlemen!” Kaito exclaimed from the back of the audience, sitting in the second to last seat from the right side, in the very back row of the lower-floor seating arrangement, dripping wet and smiling like a goddamn dumbass bastard. They stood and bowed, suddenly disappearing again in a puff of smoke, and reappearing next to Saguru on the stage. Kaito’s hand found his as they both bowed, holding their joined hands above their heads as the audience cheered in the background. They were the only two people in the world at that moment; Saguru stealing wistful glances at Kaito, whose smile seemed to be lighting up the room all by itself. Kaito, the kid who’d taught him how to love, so many times over. Kaito, the person he’d been through so much with. Kaito, the person he loved more than life itself.

 They won the talent show. No contest, really, with the competition’s shoddy display of ‘talent’. Off-key singing, off-rhythm tap-dancing, and off-timed execution of stunts, otherwise. Heiji and Shinichi had recited a bit from EndGame by Samuel Beckett. An entirely odd display, considering they were the only two on stage, and thus only half the dialogue made it into the performance itself. Not at all what they’d been boasting (or, what _Heiji_ had been boasting about) all week. Not that Saguru cared, at all. He was slowly pulling Kaito into his lap in one of the balcony seats; holding them, touching them, peppering kisses all over their face until Kaito cupped Saguru’s face and settled their face into his shoulder.

“I love you,” Kaito breathed into his neck.

“And I, you, my dove.” Saguru returned, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his partner’s head.

They were invited to an after party and they didn’t go. After shaking a few hands and talking to a friend or two, they were off: to take on the town, to take on the world. Nothing was impossible. And so they went for ice cream. Double scoop of chocolate for Kaito and raspberry chip for Saguru, they sat next to each other on a bench facing the road, and counted as the different cars flew by. Saguru wondered if the speed limit was too high, or if it simply needed to be enforced.

“Do you think we could actually get married someday, Saguru?” Kaito asked, staring off past the road, into the trees that lined the other side. It was getting dark, the sun sinking slowly down, bringing an orange-ish-pink tint cascading over everything. Saguru glanced at his partner, a small smile creeping over his face.

“I would sweep you off your feet and carry you to the courthouse right now, if they were open.” He replied, licking a trail of ice cream off of his hand. Kaito smiled, and laid their hand on Saguru’s thigh.

“I knew you’d say something like that,” they replied, still staring off into the dark, “But, I mean it, Saguru. I’m serious. Do you think we could…you know…get married some day? Not now, we’re both too young, I think. But some day. I’d like to.”

“Let’s do it then.” Saguru said, overlaying his hand on Kaito’s, “Let’s get married.”

“Saguru, please—”

“I know. Let’s get married. Let’s go tomorrow, get some promise rings, promise, etc.”

“Saguru, take me seriously. Listen, I…” The magician trailed off, curled his fingers into Saguru’s, “This is the longest we’ve been together. Almost a year and a half now, and it’s gone by so fast. Sometimes, it feels like we’re, or, _I’m_ running out of time. I’ve never doubted my feelings for you, not now, not back then, not even when I died in your arms, when I died for us, when I died for _you_.”

“Kaito, I don’t think I understand where you’re going with this.” Saguru tried to keep himself from jumping to conclusions, but his mind was extraordinarily tuned to negatives, possibilities, what-ifs of worst-case scenario after worst-case scenario.

“What I’m trying to say is, in the most round-about way possible, that I don’t exactly know…how you feel…about this? Us? It all seems so lackadaisically easy, this time around. To pick up where we’d left off, say our condolences and move on, assuming that I am the person you knew, and you are the person I knew, and that our feelings are the same as they were previously, even though we’re not in the same bodies, times, or circumstances, even though we haven’t even _talked_ about it, really. We talked about what happened. I told you my deaths were not your fault, and you told me you believed me, but other than that? Hearing you wax poetical about me, the same as you did when I was a petty thief back in the 1800’s is comforting, but goddamnit Saguru, I need assurance. That this will continue, even if I don’t die days, months, or even a few years from now.”

“This is an awfully serious conversation to be having over ice cream, Kaito.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I just…” Saguru cut off, he turned fully to Kaito, and really looked at them. They were serious, he could see it in those dark amethyst eyes staring back at him, boring into his skull with intent. “I…don’t think there are words to explain what I feel for you, Kaito. There weren’t in our first life, either, though I tried very hard to find the right ones. I, as I have said countless times, in this life and others, love you, Kaito. I can guarantee you that what I feel for you will not fade, or simply go away, even if you don’t die. I do wish, dearly, that you will not die, you know.”

Kaito still looked unsure, like he wanted to believe Saguru, but something was holding him back. Something important, serious. Something unknown.

“I wanted to kill myself, after you died the first time. I didn’t. The night after you died, the night I was going to kill myself. A woman knocked on my balcony window, after all of the police left. Her name was Aoko and she looked so much _like_ you, Kaito. She told me all about you, how you’d come to be who you were, and introduced me to your family. We all left together, with those tickets you gave them, and I bought a small house with the money I’d stolen from my mother. I tried to do right by you, and support what you’d loved, tried to carry out your wishes, as best as possible. Aoko and I play-acted husband and wife, with a bunch of rambunctious kids and it was okay. I died of influenza, with her by my side. She told me you would have been proud of me, and we cried together. I died happy.

In my second life, I did kill myself, the night you died. I remember wanting to join you in the heavens, as you were, in my eyes, an angel sent to take me away. The last one, I’d made you a sword, right before you died. One, just like what you’d asked me to make when we’d first met. The one I refused to make at the time. It hung above my mantle for about a week while a grieved, your name carved solidly into the hilt, a quote from your favorite poet engraved decoratively in the blade, posthumously. I took it down, dressed for travel and set out to take revenge on the kingdom that had wronged you. I died in battle, in your name.”

“Stop, Saguru…” Kaito’s eyes were red with burgeoning tears, “It’s okay, I get it...”

“When my memories hit me, in this life, I made a pact with myself to never get involved with you because that would mean you would die. Maybe, just maybe, if I never would have met you, you would have lived a quiet, normal life. But when you touched me, I just, I couldn’t. I wanted to hold you in my arms and never let you go, because godamnit Kaito, you mean so much to me! You are my goddamn _world!_ I _can_ live without you, that much is true. But do I want to? _No._ ” Saguru stopped, his ice cream, he’s pretty sure he dropped it half-way through the rant, and he took Kaito’s face into his hands, wiped the steam-hot tears away with his thumbs, “I don’t know what to tell you, other than that.” Kaito’s hands came up to cover his own, a slight tremble to them, as they moved both of them to their lap. Saguru lost focus for a second, not remembering just when Kaito had also gotten rid of his ice cream cone.

“We should go home, Saguru.”

“Kaito, I don’t want you to ever think that my feelings for you are shallow.”

“I know, babe, I know. I just wanted to hear you say it. I didn’t think you’d give me a whole goddamn novel, though. Props to you. Thank you, for telling me all of that. You didn’t have to, but I’m glad you did.” Kaito stood, smile creakily back on their face. Saguru took their hand and helped himself up as well. They walked to his car, and he pulled out of the ice cream shop’s parking lot, heading back to Kaito’s parent’s house.

“Promise me you’ll tell me what happened that first life, one day?” Saguru asked, pulling into the driveway. Kaito’s lips curled up in a devious smirk.

“Only if you’re a good boy, ‘Guru.” His partner winked, and hopped out of Saguru’s pickup truck, “Now, I promised _you,_ my most favorite boyfriend, a weekend full of cuddles, napping, and bad movies.” They wiggled their eyebrows at him and Saguru couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“We’re not done talking about whatever that was, I hope you know. But I think we both need a little break from all the chaos.” Saguru followed Kaito, who reached back to intertwine their fingers. His partner winked again, and placed his  finger to his lips.

“Of course, love, of course.”


	5. it's all too good, baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, Fluff, more Fluff. Chikage and Toichi make an appearance!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dudes. I am very sorry that it took me a fucking YEAR to write this sub-par chapter. At this point, I don't like this chapter but I felt like I needed to get it out so I couldn't mull over it anymore and I could just move on to the next chapter. 
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who excouraged me to keep going with this story! I love all of you and I hope you like this, at least a little bit.

“Hey, can you bring me some popcorn?” Kaito called from the bedroom, and Saguru sighed, smiling as he emerged from the bathroom and headed toward the kitchen. He popped in a bag of microwave popcorn and stared absently at the pictures littering the face of the Kuroba refrigerator, eyes listlessly shifting from photos of Kaito as a child, to recent ones, to a picture or two of himself as well. If anything, Hakuba was glad that Chikage and Toichi were accepting. They’d basically adopted him into their family when he’d somewhat opened up about his home life, and their door was always open, physically and metaphorically. The timer on the microwave dinged, and the cabinet door creaked when he pulled it open to grab a bowl. Voices from the previews playing from the rented DVD permeated the otherwise silent kitchen, and Saguru wondered briefly if this was the product of good karma.

Popcorn bowl in hand, he made his way back to Kaito’s bedroom, entirely convinced that somehow, this was too good to be true. It was late morning, and the sun filtered in through the drawn curtains in the hallway, illuminating it just enough to effectively navigate it. When he arrived back in the room, he found that Kaito had now sprawled themselves diagonally over the bed, head hanging upside down at the bottom of it.

“POPCORN!” They screamed, but they did not move.

“Come on, you have t sit up if you’re going to eat it.” Saguru said, knocking Kaito’s feet off of the headboard. He sat down on what had become “his side” of the bed and waited as Kaito slowly rotated enough to be able to hand them the popcorn bowl. Saguru eventually handed them the bowl, and they proceeded to watch all of the “Halloween” movies, which were even worse than Saguru had expected them to be (other than the first, which was a classic by Kaito’s standards). By the time they had finished the regrettable remakes of the original film, it was night, and Saguru was cuddled into Kaito’s side: warm, comfortable, and sleepy.

“Well, that was definitely not the ‘hard-pressed horror thriller’ that the dvd case promised.” Kaito chuckled, and switched the television over to YouTube and put on “dramatic readings of true horror stories”.

“I swear you’ve listened to every single one of these already.” Saguru said, settling under the blankets and waiting for Kaito to lay down so that he could curl around them. A few moments passed, Kaito remained silent, and did not seem to be moving to lay down. Saguru slowly opened his eyes again, straining to see his partner in the dim light from the television. Kaito seemed to be staring into their lap, motionless, and y’know, a little creepy. “If you’re trying to scare me again it’s not going to work this time.” Saguru said, his hand lightly touching Kaito’s thigh, almost as a confirmation that Kaito had not turned into some weird demon monster in the 30 seconds that Saguru had had his eyes closed. They laughed and flopped back down onto the bed.

“Damn, I thought it was going to work that time.” They grinned and Saguru smiled back, his hands finding theirs and intertwining their fingers.

“Always one step ahead of you.” Saguru said, and Kaito laughed, hard and genuine.

“Yeah, you keep thinking that, babe.”

 

\----

Saguru had always been a heavy sleeper, and while he would always insist that he would _definitely_ wake up if there was a _major_ disturbance (the example he usually used being an intruder ready to kill them), Kaito knew this to be untrue. When all was said and done, Kaito was pretty damn sure Saguru could sleep through a hurricane sweeping him away, or a chainsaw revving by his ear. And Kaito had, more often than not, learned to use that to his advantage over the years they had been together. Not for anything _too_ nefarious, of course, but it did come in handy when he needed to leave for a few hours to take care of things that he couldn’t while Saguru was around. Things he either didn’t want him to know about (for a variety of reasons) or things that were uncertain, unsure, in nature. Why bother him with things that may not even be real? Why bother him, why make him worry, about things that he had no control over? And as for sacrificing a few hours of their own rest? Well, that’s what afternoon naps were for, right? Right. Not like they could sleep now either way, really.  

Kaito crept up from bed, and quietly slipped out the window into the night.

\----

 

Saguru woke in the morning to the smell of bacon in the air and Kaito’s head resting heavily on his chest. Gods, this was perfect. His life was perfect. So _goddamn **perfect**_. Gently, he shook Kaito awake and asked if they wanted some breakfast.

“No, I’ll be out soon to get some.” Kaito grumbled, sleep still heavy in his voice. Saguru kissed their forehead as they moved to roll back over. _Weird_ , Saguru thought, _usually Kaito would be up and ready to go by this time of morning._ Saguru shook the thought off, trying not to overthink things that were clearly not a big deal. As he made his way down the hallway, he could hear Toichi and Chikage talking over the sounds of metal clanking together and something (presumably bacon) frying. It was nice, having these sorts of family interactions. His parents had never been particularly warm toward him or even each other, so seeing Toichi and Chikage’s easy affection toward each other was a welcomed experience.

Chikage smiled at him when he entered the kitchen as she sat nursing a cup of coffee at the dining table.

“Do you want some breakfast, dear? Toichi is making omelets.” She said, taking a sip of her coffee. She motioned for him to come closer and he obliged.

“He found out that it was your birthday this weekend and got upset that we wouldn’t be here. So, he’s making his ‘famous omelets for you.” Chikage whispered into his ear. She laughed behind her hand and Toichi glared at her from the stove. Saguru chuckled and sat down across from Chikage.

“I hope you’re not over there divulging all of my secrets, darling.” Toichi chimed and slipped an omelet onto a plate, setting it tenderly in front of Saguru.

“Thank you, Mr. Kuroba.” Saguru said, and Toichi feigned offence.

“Saguru, my darling boy, please call me Toichi. I’m begging you.” Toichi grinned, teeth bared, and put his hands behind his back, “Which hand?”

“Left.” Saguru said, taking a bite of the omelet. His throat was tight

“Clever boy,” He handed Saguru a small silver box wrapped up in red ribbon, “Happy Birthday, from both of us.” Chikage smiled at him and gestured for him to open it. He pulled on the ribbon and carefully tore open the box. Two silver keys, but not in the shape of _car_ keys. So… Saguru stared at the box for a few moments, mulling it over in his head.

“A key…to the house?” Saguru chanced, bemusedly looking to Chikage for help.

“We bought you an apartment.” Toichi said, clearly very excited.

“Well, we bought you _and_ Kaito an apartment.” Chikage added, smiling, “We hope you’ll like it. Figured it would be cheaper than paying steep dorm rent. And since your parents are basically out of the picture, well.”

“Does Kaito…know?” Saguru asked, his eyes focused intensely on the keys. Shiny and new. A brand new start.

“No. We thought you could tell them.”

Saguru sat at the table for a while, slowly eating his omelet. Toichi and Chikage headed out not long after, wishing him a happy birthday again, and telling him to take care of Kaito while they were gone. Chikage had kissed his head before they left, and hugged him. He’d held it in until they’d made it through the door, heard the lock click into place, and tucked the keys into his jean pocket. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes, could feel them falling down his cheeks, hitting the fabric of his shirt. _Goddamn it,_ Saguru thought, _goddamn it. This was too good, too **nice** , too **perfect**. _ Saguru wiped the tears away and took a few deep breaths, convincing himself that this was real. His fingers felt for the keys in his pocket, they were definitely still there. In reality, he knew he should be excited; he _was_ excited. Saguru stopped that train of thought while he was ahead, and headed in to talk to Kaito.


	6. we had pennies in our pockets, we had hope in our eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaito and Saguru move in to their new apartment and trouble arises.

All in all, Kaito took the news well, though he was a little upset set that his parents hadn’t consulted them first. They moved in 2 weeks before the semester began, to try and acclimate themselves to the area before diving right in to school. And while Kaito’s parents had assured him that they could and would help them pay for bills during their first semester, he insisted on getting a job. Looking online, he’d found a pretty good set-up in an office downtown as a secretary. The company was apparently a new start-up and really in need of bodies, so he was hired pretty much as soon as he showed up for the interview. By the end of the interview, he had a start date (tomorrow) and a new company email. The office itself was nice, and while his co-workers seemed a bit low energy, they were courteous.

\----

The first couple of days in town mostly consisted of unpacking and setting up their apartment, soft, sweet kisses in between hanging photos and rearranging furniture. They visited local restaurants and discovered a nice walking trail that ran parallel to the local river. Saguru was absolutely over the moon. Spending this much time doing cutesy, romantic things kind of made all of this feel like some ethereal dream: cooking dinner together, wandering around the brick-lined streets of downtown, sitting in local coffee shops and chatting until the sun went down. It was almost a little too much.

\---

“So, you’ve got plans with a friend today?” Saguru asked, a cup of coffee in his hands that was entirely too bitter for his taste, but he’d yet to get to the store to buy more.

“Yeah, met someone at the coffee shop around the corner while you were at work yesterday.”

“So you guys are getting lunch and then you’ll be back?”

“I think so,” Kaito answered, smiling at their partner, “Why? Jealous?” Their smile morphed into something akin to a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach their eyes. They were lying. Saguru wanted to ask why they were lying to him.

“No, just wanted to spend time with you today; trying to plan what I’m going to do while you’re gone.” He took a sip of his coffee and bit his tongue as he swallowed. There had to be a reason—a good reason why—

“Alright, well, I should be back around three.” Kaito kissed him and Saguru laid his hand over his lover’s, staring into their eyes for a moment before giving them a quick peck on the cheek and letting go. They waved goodbye and headed out the door and it took everything Saguru had to not follow them. He had no reason to, other than that small thread of doubt weaving it’s way through his chest. It was just Kaito making a friend—which was good—making friends would help cement them into the community and give them a good social support system… It just seemed…off. Saguru tried to shake it off, telling himself that he was reading too far into things and he was just nervous to start classes soon.

That night, Kaito returned 4 hours, 38 minutes, and 36 seconds after 3pm. They were wearing different clothes than the ones they’d left in, and Saguru was simultaneously very anxious and very curious.

“Did you go…shopping?” Trying to put a certain amount of good natured humor into voice, Saguru tried to act like he wasn’t waiting for them to come home for the past 5 hours. His stomach was knotting and he swore his heart rate was at _least 120 bpm._

“Oh, yeah. Our waiter at the restaurant spilled a pitcher of water on me and Akako had these in her car – which is why I’m late. I changed and then we went back to her apartment to put my clothes in the dryer and eat the rest of our lunch.” Kaito explained, but Saguru could barely hear them with his heart pounding in his ears. All he could focus on was the tremble in Kaito’s hand, how their fingers never stilled – not even for a brief second. Moving, moving, nervous, _lying_.

“Oh,” Saguru said, his eyes falling to the floor, “Did she give you new shoes as well?” White loafers, entirely too odd to have lying around in one’s trunk without reason, especially when the rest of the ensemble was a t-shirt and jeans.

“Got some of the water in my shoes.”

“I see.” He paused for a moment, trying to form all of the information into one cohesive picture, narrative, and see if it made sense. “I made spaghetti for dinner if you’d like some. I’m going to go shower.” Gods, he didn’t want to think about this. He was sure Kaito could tell that something was off, that he was thinking way too hard about what they’d told him. To their credit, they didn’t show it.

“Love you,” Kaito called after him.

“I love you too.”

_Gods, he didn’t want to **think** about this._


End file.
